


Something Lost

by flecksofpoppy



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Backstory, Gen, M/M, Reibert - Freeform, Titan Meta, canonverse, head canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-14
Updated: 2014-06-14
Packaged: 2018-02-04 16:01:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1784950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flecksofpoppy/pseuds/flecksofpoppy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The cost of power.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something Lost

_“Someone who can’t sacrifice anything, can never change anything.”_ –Armin Arlert

 

Loss is measured in lament; and in order to lament, one must remember.

They’re sitting in the bunks in dim lamplight. Everyone is talking quietly, sizing one another up after six months, telling stories about their hometowns or bragging about how they ranked in first place by Shadis during that day’s ODM gear training.

Reiner and Bertolt aren’t talking—sitting together on the edge of Bertolt’s bed cross-legged—but Reiner wants to join in. He wants to tell a story about when Bertolt was ten, how he’d climbed up a giant apple tree after a piece of ripe fruit and ignored the worried chorus from their friends that it was too high, that he’d fall.

Bertolt had always been one of the most confident out of them, and he was strong and tall. Apples were Reiner’s favorite, and Bertolt had set out to get it for his best friend.

_“You want to race me up?” he’d challenged Reiner. “It’ll be fun.”_

Throughout their childhood, hushed excited discussions about Bertolt’s potential as a shifter had become something they were used to, almost white noise after a while. He was just _good_ at things—but one of his best characteristics was his ambition. He wanted to be strong, to be a warrior. 

Reiner was strong, too. That was his only key skill, though, and it was obvious by the time he was already seven that his strongest asset would be his brutish strength. There was no question about what he’d become.

But Bertolt... no one really knew. He could be anything.

Reiner had watched Bertolt climb into that tree, give a cocky wave from halfway up, grinning down at everyone. Reiner knew right then that he’d never lose that sense of admiration—almost envy—he had for his best friend.

But climbing ancient apple trees was a child’s game; it was a time spent lying under the shade of leaves in summer, playfully experimenting with their Titan abilities as adolescence took hold.

Bertolt could create steam, and once he started training to reach his full potential, his body never quite regained a normal human temperature. He sweated a lot, but Reiner didn’t mind; in some way, it made him feel excited, since he knew that Bertolt’s abilities lay so close to the surface of his skin, as if his human body couldn’t contain his essence.

Reiner knew that he’d follow Bertolt to the ends of whatever lands lay beyond their home and back for three reasons. One was friendship; two was admiration; and three was the expression on Bertolt’s face—Bertl, as Reiner called him—when they’d kissed for the first time. It was shy, and almost like what humans call “first love.”

But Reiner’s love for Bertolt grew; it became like a red ribbon knotted many times over, then looped back and knotted again until it became as impenetrable as a smooth stone, and as complex as the center of an apple, full of hollows, seeds, and knots.

Reiner wants to tell that story about Bertolt to the other trainees as he watches Bertolt sitting there beside him, looking quiet and timid. He’s biting his lip and nervously staring down, not making eye contact; not the way he would have when they were younger.

This Bertolt would never return Reiner’s kiss the way he had back then; the way he’d grabbed Reiner with shaky, unsure hands but a lot of eagerness, and pushed him against the rough bark of a tree. He’d been intentionally rough, and Reiner had hissed as the bark scraped over his skin hard enough to draw blood. He’s growled in that way that he’s come to realize is a noise only shifters make, and Bertolt had kissed him again as Reiner healed himself at the same time.

That Bertolt is not this Bertolt, even though he is.

This Bertolt is Bertolt Hoover, the trainee with a secret; not Bertl, the shifter with unlimited potential and a cocky, young smile.

All shifters know what happens once reaching the level of warrior; of having the honor of being referred to as such.

To get something, you have to give something.

It happens gradually and with guidance—the giving of human personality traits to obtain advantages as a Titan. 

Shifters are warned from an early age not to stray too far into the Titan mind without the proper training; there were ones that both Reiner and Bertolt knew as children that started too early, pushed themselves too hard, and ended up as mindless monsters. 

Reiner always had an even-minded disposition; he had level-headedness to spare, and enough conviction for a well-trained army. He wanted the title of warrior even more than Bertolt in some ways.

When he gained the ability to armor his skin, he started to have dreams about things he’d done wrong in his short life.

Every time he shifted and pushed himself further, he’d return to his human form, and be afraid to sleep.

As a very young child, Reiner always dreamed of silly things, like pie and running through open fields—he’d always been athletic. But after he truly started to become what years later humanity would call the “Armored Titan,” he started to dream of dead things. 

A memory surfaced in one nightmare of how he’d accidentally dropped a baby bird as a child. He hadn’t meant to and it’d already fallen from the nest—he was trying to save it, in fact, since he’s also always been nurturing—but he’d accidentally killed it.

The harder his skin became and the faster he ran in his Titan form, the more dreams he had about dead baby birds. It grated on him, made him feel hollow somewhere deep inside that he took great pains to ignore. So far, he’s been successful.

And Bertolt—the one with limitless potential—had become one of the most powerful shifters that their hometown had ever seen. He was a huge, towering colossus—he deserved the name the humans gave him after they successfully breached the Wall—that looked barely humanoid. He had no skin, the ability to boil someone alive with a single burst of steam, and was so large that Reiner was sure at one point he must be able to touch the stars.

He started to change. The larger he became, the more frightened he was in his human form.

He stopped climbing trees to retrieve Reiner apples, stopped grinning, stopped kissing even. He’d just hide behind Reiner most of the time. Their childhood friends all thought he’d lost his mind and was on the verge of becoming the monster.

He became so weak willed that Reiner worried for him; but Bertolt didn’t go completely over the edge.

This is Bertl now: nervous with eyes averted at the floor, keen green eyes filled with anxiety, far too quiet even though he’s remarkable.

“Bertl,” Reiner says quietly once everyone’s gone to bed, “I was thinking about that time you climbed the huge tree to get the apple. Do you remember that?”

“I guess,” he replies softly. His bed is next to Reiner’s, and he slides over slightly; he won’t take the initiative anymore, though, just like he stopped kissing Reiner.

So Reiner rolls over to him and pulls him close, both arms around him. 

“I think Marcel was there,” he continues, smiling a little as Bertolt relaxes against him. “You climbed up that tree with a big shit eating grin. You weren’t afraid.”

Bertolt just sighs and shrugs. “It’s fuzzy.”

“Yeah,” Reiner whispers, bringing his hand up to stroke Bertolt’s hair. “I wish I could tell everyone that story, since they all think you’re so shy.”

Bertolt stiffens and pulls back a little to stare at Reiner in the dark.

His green eyes flash slightly with concern, and Reiner feels his heart speed up—so knotted and raw. 

“You’re not going to though, right? We have other things to do.”

Reiner frowns; suddenly, the memory is confusing.

“Um, no,” he replies, his forehead creasing as he thinks. Suddenly, he feels something wet on his face.

He meets Bertolt’s eyes in confusion. “Am I crying?”

“Yeah,” Bertolt whispers, his voice choked and soft as he brings up his fingers to wipe the tears away from Reiner’s cheeks.

It’s a strange, surreal feeling, and Reiner laughs a little at it. “Why would I be sad?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. “I’m pretty sure I got a really good grade today on that run. What else could I want?”

“I remember that apple tree story,” Bertolt says suddenly, looking at Reiner. “I remember. I’m not like that anymore, though.”

“I have nightmares,” Reiner whispers, and Bertolt hangs onto him tightly now.

“But you’re still you,” Bertolt says, rubbing Reiner’s back. “And I’m still me. And I’m also _him_.”

Bertolt has always referred to their Titan alter egos like gods.

“You’re still Bertl?” Reiner asks, screwing his eyes shut to stop the tears. He tries not to choke or shudder and wake anyone up. 

“I’ll always be Bertl,” Bertolt replies quietly. He presses his face against Reiner’s shoulder and curls closer. “And I’ll always be here when you wake up.”

“If you remember that story, I’ll remember it, too,” Reiner whispers,. “No matter what we’ve lost, or what we lose.”

Bertolt nods. “We’ve also gained something.”

Reiner shifts on the bed and closes his eyes—he hears all the other trainees breathing and murmuring in their sleep, and sets his jaw.

“We’re warriors,” he says resolutely in a soft voice, but then turns his head to look at Bertolt. “Don’t let me forget.”

Bertolt still has tears in his eyes and his mouth is down-turned; but then, he forces himself to smile a little, and evaporates them in a tiny curl of steam. 

That’s something else Bertolt used to do when they were kids, when the ability to use their Titan powers in human form was still exciting and new.

Reiner returns the smile, and leans forward to press a soft kiss against Bertolt’s lips. They're hot, and Reiner is reminded of the way Bertolt used to taste—like sun-warmed apples in summer—and he closes his eyes to remember for as long as he can.

**Author's Note:**

> To answer your question: no, I don't understand what's up with me and the fruit metaphors. It's a thing.
> 
> Comments always appreciated! XD Let me know how I'm doing if you feel the urge! <3


End file.
